The Elder Scrolls I : ascent of the Sword-Runners

Arngeirr was crouching close to the timber floor as he skulked along the trail, stalking his prey. His handwriting were filthy, mud and moss clung to his Banded iron Armour, his long golden blond hair hung over his cheek, dampness with lather.

He sniffed the air and swivelled around on his feet to face north. He had her sent. Quickly but lightly, he sprinted through the forrest towards Riverwood, making little noise he jumped from a fallen log and climbed a improbable oak tree until, halfway up, he rested against a branch. Slowly he drew his male parent ancient Nordic Bow and readied his brand arrow to strike.

A Stormcloak patrol passed beneath him.

'' Damn you '' he cursed as they moved on and in he distance he saw the great cervid he had been stalking prancing away towards the lake.

He slid down the tree after sheathing his weapon and walked towards Riverwood. As the sunrise wind blew through the tree Arngeirr ran his mitt through his golden hair and approached Lake Llinalta. As he broke through the Tree line he breathed deeply inhaling the sassy air, it was so different here than it was in the cities, here you could discover peace.

As he looked around himself Arngeirr sat down and, bringing his nose close to the dry land he began to whiff and hear for any wildlife that he might hunt.

He soon caught the odor of a fox and followed it in the charge of Llinatas Deep, as he approach the bank he sighed, he hated swimming, he was n't bad at swimming per say, just disliked getting wet, unusual though as he did n't mind getting bemire, sweaty or bloody.

He swam quickly across to the northern savings bank to avoid the drubbing Fish. Unlike others in Skyrim, the Pisces would cause been their finish concern, as for some reasonableness everyone thought that the lake was cursed, no one in the Sword-Runner family believed in curses, and they were ALL stubbornly brave beyond reckoning.

Arngeirr advanced slowly and quietly for two reasons, he did n't want to suffer his prey, and just to his left on top of the subside tower of Llinatas oceanic abyss were two brigand Marauders wielding Orcish Battleaxes. Also just behind them was an prentice necromancer.

As he passed silently by he was blasted forward into the Tree-line by a huge ball of virtuous livid light, dazed and confused Arngeirr could see the Necromancer shouting and barking Order as three bandit bowman came up and shot arrow at the sphere as the thaumaturgist shot fireballs at it and the two brigand earlier charged at it wielding their Axis in a blind wrath.

As Arngeirr pulled himself from his daze and fog he drew his Sky-forge steel great-sword from his back and charged at the brigand as the sphere began to shrink inside taking the loose physique of a man.

Arngeirr charged as the world-class bandit, a blighter Nord, turned and charged at Arngeirr clad in hide armor. He swung his axe at Arngeirr 's head, Arngeirr ducked, stabbed up into the Nords chest, then spun around drawing the sword from his chest cutting him nearly in two.

Arngeirr stood up straight, his face stained with line of descent, holding his bloodied great-sword in his decent hand, his chest heave as he huffed and puffed, watching as the Orc brigand clad in fur armor charged him in madness.

Mimicking the Orc Arngeirr charged and dangle his great-sword with all his might. Battle-axe and Great-sword clashed in a spark of Orichulum on Steel.

They pressed each early with all their strength, staring into the orcs bestial boldness as it roared in choler and continued to constrict its leaf blade downwards towards Arngeirrs psyche. His strength was failing, the orc was winning with its immense natural physical strength, but Arngeirr was exhilarated by it he loved fighting orcs as they were one of the few races who posed a real threat to him and a real challenge.

As the axe drew nearer to his head Arngeirr slipped into an unbound fury. He roared out like a cage in Panthera leo, the nordic battle cry. He pushed up with all his might and sent the orc reeling back onto its arse, its energy now spent as Arngeirr swung his blade down onto its chest, delivering the killing blow, cleaving a yawn hole in the orcs chest.

Arngeirr spun to see a woodelf crouched on a bit of crumbling rock that once was a strut holding up the towboat, weilding an ebony bow fix to force out her arrow at Arngeirr as a banded smoothing iron clad red-guard wielding threefold scimitars advanced on Arngeirr and a Leather clad Khajiit assassin flanked him on his right as he faced the tower.

version himself for scrap Arngeirr advanced on the Red-guard and swung his leaf blade in a wide arc in straw man of himself. The Red-guard jumped back at the first of all swipe then as the second came he deflected with his scimitar sending Arngeirrs blade away from him and into the air. The Red-guard slashed at Arngeirrs thigh bringing him to his knees as an pointer sank into his articulatio humeri. The Khajiit stabbed him in his right field should also, completely crippling him as Arngeirr felt his life ebbing from him.

Then he felt a swoosh of air as a greenish blur flew by him at the Red-guard was thrown back into the towers crumbling paries, an Orcish battle-axe embedded deep in his breast. Arngeirr watched as the woodelf lowered her bow and stared across-the-board eyed at what she saw, fear engulfing her. Arngeirr simply looked forward at her the totally time as the Necromancer ran forward and tried to recruit the corpses to fight but, the khajiit was sent flying through the air crashing into him, its legs broken. Arngeirr felt a warm hand on his arm pulling him up as the passion spread through his body, a solace pacify light engulfing his wounds, healing them.

Then a marvellous man, of 6ft 5in, dressed in ebony armour, wielding two ebony swords and a great sword, with yearn swept back lucky pilus and a muscular build walked by towards the necromancer and Khajiit. He drove his blade into the neck of his opponents then turned to the woodelf.

'' Do you submit ? '' The man asked in a late, yet soft and comforting representative to which the elf just nodded repeatedly

She was short, 5ft 3in in height with long black pilus tied back in a pony-tail. Her peel was tanned and her y were a inscrutable sparkling leafy vegetable, she was slight of figure, clearly conciliatory and agile.

'' Then go inside, gather all that your bandit friends steal and contribute it out here '' The man ordered as the elf disappeared into the sunken bread and butter

The man walked over to Arngeirr and helped him up

'' Are you alright ? '' The man asked, to which the man nodded in reply

'' What is your name ? ``

'' Arngeirr, and yours ? ''

'' ... Raiden .... ''